


far beyond the final station

by M0stlyVoid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Blood, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Formalwear, Homicidal Impulses, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Vampire Harry Potter, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/pseuds/M0stlyVoid
Summary: Harryalmostwent too far this time.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 169





	far beyond the final station

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragontamerdrarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontamerdrarry/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Waste Not, Want Not](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245158) by [dragontamerdrarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontamerdrarry/pseuds/dragontamerdrarry). 



> this is much less dire than the tags indicate, i swear.
> 
> written for and inspired by the phenomenally, _stupidly_ talented [dragontamerdame](https://dragontamerdame.tumblr.com/), who has so graciously given me permission to write a little something off her gorgeous formalwear kinktober piece. go shower her with love, everything she posts on tumblr is just disgustingly good!!!!

“Ahh,” Harry groans, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He crosses one ankle over his knee and fiddles distractedly with his sleeve, doing up one of the buttons at his wrist that had come loose during his recent _activities_.

All he can hear is a dull rushing roar, and his nose is filled with Draco’s scent—a particular intoxicating combination of fear and pain overlaying the pleasure Harry had been doing his best to deliver just moments ago, a smell that never fails to rouse him even when he’s as satiated as he currently is, a smell he’s as attuned to as the feel of his own magic sparking inside his fingertips.

According to Hermione, when he’d been Turned, his magic had changed—changed in intensity, changed in feel, changed in strength—but he hadn’t noticed. Draco’s slightly-less-academic explanation, delivered in the middle of him begging for orgasm as Harry alternated between sucking him off and drinking from his femoral artery, was that Harry’s magic was simply _more_ now, especially after he’d drank—more power, more subtlety, more of everything. To Harry, all it means is wandless spells comes a bit easier now.

Draco certainly likes his wandless magic, if the goosebumps he gets whenever Harry casts are any indication. Something about the smell, he’s said before—Harry hadn’t really been paying attention.

Harry flicks a lock of hair that’s fallen over his eye and licks at the corner of his mouth, closing his eyes at the dizzying rush Draco’s blood brings him, even when it’s cooled and no longer straight from the source. It fizzes as it absorbs into his own blood, the cool piney tang of the gin Draco had at dinner spiking in his veins.

Smiling, he glances to his left, where Draco’s sprawled out, one hand resting over his head. Harry lets his eyes drago up Draco’s torso, eyes blurring and refocusing as the new life rushing through his body settles. It always takes a few minutes, after he finishes drinking, for him to settle back into his own skin; he feels almost like he’s vibrating at first.

His gazes reaches Draco’s face, still and calm in the aftermath, and—

Oh, fuck.

Draco’s face is pale, paler than normal—he’s almost chalk-white, and his lips are going blue, and the four puncture wounds in his neck are pumping blood still, but slowly, sluggishly, the thin streams at odds with the pool of blood spreading through the bedsheets and over Draco’s fine white silk shirt.

“Draco?” Harry says tentatively, reaching out and gently touching Draco’s eyelids. Nothing. “Shit,” Harry curses, eyes fixed on the bitemarks in Draco’s neck, cock twitching even as he scrambles for his wand.

He eventually finds it, carelessly dropped behind an armchair in the corner of the room where he’d no doubt flung it in their frantic, hasty lust as they came in from their dinner-date, and as he strides back over to the bed he fumbles it, nearly drops it, still on a high from Draco’s blood.

Too much of Draco’s blood, clearly.

Even as Harry points his wand carefully at Draco’s chest, part of him can’t help but observe his work with glee, something that feels upsettingly like _pride_ curling up warm in his chest, where his heart used to beat.

Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? Part of Harry _wants_ to kill Draco, _wants_ to take that one last, irrevocable step and make Draco a part of him, permanently. Harry has to hold himself back every time they do this, has to pull away far sooner than he wants and heal Draco quickly before his instincts take over and he does something he can’t undo.

The worst part is, Draco doesn’t blame him for it. Sometimes, Harry thinks he likes it. He’s seen the look Draco gets as he gasps and shakes apart in Harry’s arms, as his limbs get cold and his vision dims as his own blood leaves him. He’d let Harry drain every ounce of his life’s essence, and with his last breath he’d be gasping Harry’s name as he comes. This knowledge makes it that much harder for Harry to control himself.

His hand shakes and he forces himself to take a deep breath, then casts some diagnostics. Harry’s coming back to himself now, more and more every moment, and with each breath that he doesn’t need any longer the impulse to hesitate, to wait _just to be sure_ leaves him, replaced with a desperate, clawing grief that this is the time he’s gone too far, this is the time he’s lost Draco for good.

He couldn’t bear it. Some days he thinks Draco’s presence, his unconditional, constant forgiveness and steady ability to take whatever Harry throws at him, is the only thing keeping Harry even remotely human. Hermione would cry if she heard him say that, and Ron would gruffly deny it, but Harry _knows_ , and Draco does too, and that’s why he _can’t_.

Harry almost swoons in relief when the spells swirl purple over Draco’s head—faint, barely there, but purple nonetheless, not the grey he was dreading. He heals Draco’s wounds and picks him up, both sickened and fascinated by the way Draco’s head lolls back over Harry’s arm, Vanishing the ruined bedsheets and replacing them with a new set before gently settling Draco back against the pillows.

He’ll get an earful about that tomorrow—it’s the third set he’s ruined this month from pouncing on Draco too quickly before they’re able to put down protective spells that will spare the fabric from bloodstains, and Draco insists on buying the most expensive cotton he can find. He finds himself smiling, thinking about the lecture he’s sure to receive, both for that and the absolutely ruined couture Draco’s still wearing—the alternative, now that he’s backed down from the edge of his bloodlust, is too awful to contemplate.

Once he’s gotten Draco situated comfortably and covered in blankets, Harry steps back and simply looks at him for a moment.

Draco looks fragile like this, in a way he never does normally, not even when he’s asleep. There are always lines between his eyebrows and a slight downturn to his mouth when he sleeps, as if he’s wrestling with important philosophical questions in his dreams. Harry’s teased him about it in the past, but now he finds himself struck by the smooth absence of any expression at all on Draco’s face, by how truly lifeless he looks even though Harry knows he still breathes, can hear his heartbeat, even as faint as it is.

Harry slips out and retrieves several vials of Blood-Replenishing potion, returning just in time to hear a quiet whine slip from Draco’s lips as he starts to stir.

“Harry?” Draco rasps, and Harry’s at his side in an instant, sitting on the bed next to him and holding a flask to Draco’s lips, helping him drink.

“Salazar,” Draco groans after he finishes the third dose, pushing himself up a bit further on the pillows. His lips are back to their normal rosy hue, and he’s got colour in his cheeks again—well, as much colour as he usually has, at least. Harry can smell the rush of blood under Draco’s skin and has to push down the little curl of lust it evokes. “How long was I out for?”

Harry glances at the bedside clock. “Hm. About thirty minutes. How do you feel? I think I… Well. I took it too far this time, Draco. You almost. I. I thought you were dead. I really…” He notices with an absent sort of surprise that his eyes are stinging with tears. “I thought that was it, this time. That I’d really killed you. We _need_ to be more careful; you know how I get, how quickly it turns bad, and I’m so scared that soon I won’t be able to pull back in time. You _really_ need to keep your wand on you from now on; I just— I can’t—”

Draco reaches out, and Harry falls forward into his arms, burying his head into Draco’s neck, right next to where he’d bit him earlier. Merlin, he hadn’t even _cleaned_ Draco; he’d left him there in his stained shirt with blood drying on his neck, looking like what he actually is—the victim of a brutal attack.

Harry hates himself just a little bit more when he can’t stop himself from licking along Draco’s skin, lapping up the fast-fading flavour. He feels Draco shiver under him, and his cock twitches when one of Draco’s hands winds into his hair, pulling just enough to sting.

“I know that you’re worried about it,” Draco says, stroking down along Harry’s back. “But I trust you, Harry—you’ve always been able to stop yourself before, and you _need_ this; we both know you do.”

“You shouldn’t trust me,” Harry whispers, drawing back and cupping Draco’s chin. There are bags under Draco’s eyes, but they still sparkle with a barely-banked heat.

Draco smiles gently at him. “I know that, too,” he replies, before pulling Harry into a blistering, biting kiss with too many teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [here](https://bonesliketambourines.tumblr.com/post/636703998748033024/waste-not-want-not-for-hpkinktober-formal), come say hi!


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